


no one but you;

by kinneyb



Series: first times [15]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22480483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: “Boys, boys,” her voice carried through the door, clear as day, “I am, frankly, exhausted by your stupidity. So, I have locked the door - with magic, Geralt, so don’t bother - and will only unlock it when you have a real conversation.”Jaskier closed his eyes, tight. “Yennefer,” he said. “Please.”“Sorry, Jaskier,” she said, and the worst part was she sounded sincere. “I’ll be back in, hmm, thirty or so minutes. Get to talking if you wish to be freed.”/Geralt and Jaskier are idiots. Yennefer is not. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: first times [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579837
Comments: 37
Kudos: 1739





	no one but you;

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry for leaving y'all on that sad cliffhanger last time... but here we are!  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Jaskier was… _numb_. All his life, he’d been a very emotional person. He was never ashamed of his happiness or fear or sadness. But right now he could feel nothing. He was weirdly grateful for it because he knew otherwise he would still be sobbing like a mess when Yennefer walked in, an odd look on her face.

It’d been two days since Geralt had… well, _broken up_ with him _._ There was no other term for it. They’d been together, and now they weren’t.

She walked in and closed the door with a soft _click_ , her heels clacking on the wooden floor. “So,” she said. “Have you been keeping up with your meds?” she asked, nodding at the vials.

Jaskier looked over; he only had a few left. He nodded.

“Hmm, good,” she said, walking over and pulling the blanket back. “I need to check the wound,” she explained and he just nodded silently as she lifted his shirt, looking over the injury.

Satisfied, she pulled his shirt back down and readjusted the blanket.

“You’re healing wonderfully,” she said. “Even better than expected, honestly.”

Jaskier wanted to be happy, grateful, _anything_ but he was still perfectly numb. He just nodded again, not looking at her.

“Okay,” she sighed, hands on her hips. “What the fuck is going on?”

Jaskier shrugged. He picked at a few loose threads hanging from the blanket, twirling them around his finger. Leaving them until the tip of his finger turned purple. Yennefer reached down and uncurled the thread, freeing his finger.

“Jaskier,” she said. “Something happened, I can tell. Geralt isn’t talking, but I know _you_ will.” She squeezed his hand. “What happened?”

He frowned and took his hand away. “It’s not important.”

“Do you honestly think you can fool me?” she asked, sitting on the bed.

Jaskier almost smiled, _almost_. “No,” he answered truthfully. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment before he opened them again, looking up at Yennefer. “But this isn’t just about me, so.”

“Did you and grumpy pants get in a fight?” she asked lightly.

And somehow _that_ was what sent him tumbling over the edge, eyes stinging with tears. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Not… not a fight,” he said, speaking slowly, “not exactly.”

Jaskier hadn’t put up much of a fight, really, despite feeling like his world was ending. Because maybe he knew, deep down, this was always going to happen. Geralt would never stay with him, not when he had other choices.

He was probably just using this incident as an excuse. He’d probably been thinking about this for weeks, months, since the very beginning.

Jaskier sobbed, unable to help himself, and startled when he felt Yennefer’s hand on his leg, rubbing, light and comforting.

“Jaskier,” she said, uncharacteristically soft. “Tell me.”

It wasn’t commanding, though, just pure worry. He reached up and scrubbed at his eyes, swallowing a sob. “He _ended_ things, Yennefer,” he said. “He - he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, and - and honestly, I was stupid for even thinking - ”

Yennefer squeezed his leg, _hard_. “Jaskier, stop it,” she said and he obeyed, pressing his lips together. “Listen, I - ” she sighed and sat up straighter. “I have no interest in getting involved in your relationship, not like this, but… you can’t seriously think that, right?”

Jaskier stared at her with wet, bloodshot eyes. He shrugged weakly.

“Gods,” she sighed again. “Jaskier, anyone with _eyes_ could see that Geralt is crazy about you. It’s - ” her nose wrinkled “ - honestly kind of grossly annoying.”

Jaskier smiled for the briefest of seconds, looking down.

“You didn’t see him when you were…” Yennefer paused, licking her lips. She squeezed his leg again. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to save you,” she admitted in a soft voice and he felt chills down his spine. “And if this had happened a few years earlier, I don’t think I would’ve been capable of it.” She looked wistful for a moment, like she was remembering something.

He stayed quiet, listening.

“Point is, he was really freaked out, Jaskier,” she continued. “Scratch that: he was _terrified_.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and laughed, once, sad and bitter. “Geralt? Terrified?”

“Yes,” she replied quickly, firmly. “He was scared, Jaskier, scared of losing you. I’ve never seen him so upset. _Never.”_

Jaskier frowned, his stomach lurching with the news. “Well,” he sniffed, scrubbing at his wet cheeks. “It’s too late now. He made his decision and if he thinks I’m going to wait around or - or fall _apart_ over him, he’s - he’s _wrong_.”

Yennefer didn’t reply, not for a while, and he looked up. “Respect,” she said, and he could tell she meant it. “Don’t _ever_ fall apart over a man.”

He smiled shakily. Yennefer scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. Jaskier buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed openly. He wanted to be brave, like Yennefer, but he couldn’t. He realized then, with stark clarity, that he was in love with Geralt and had been for months.

“Yennefer, I - I think I lo - ”

She squeezed him tighter. “ _Don’t_ ,” she chided. “Save it.”

Jaskier sniffled and nodded, not really understanding but respecting her wishes all the same. Yennefer rubbed his back, soft and comforting, until he fell asleep.

Yennefer stomped out of the inn after that. She opened the door to the tavern and a dozen eyes fell on her. A man approached her, waggling his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes, not in the mood.

“Don’t,” she warned, and he backed off as she walked to the bar.

Geralt, the poor sack, had a concerning amount of empty mugs in front of him. He looked up at Yennefer’s arrival, the corners of his mouth quirking down in a frown.

“Drunk enough?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“Not nearly,” he replied blandly and turned, waving at the bartender.

Yennefer glared at the bartender with fire in her eyes and he turned on his heels, walking off in the other direction.

Geralt frowned, deeper, looking at her. “What was that for?” he asked gruffly.

“Firstly,” she said, “we don’t have the money for this.”

Geralt looked away. She had a point, and he knew it. “Okay,” he said, “what’s the second thing?”

Yennefer punched him, _hard_ , in the arm and he flinched.

“What the fuck, Yen?” he asked, eyes wide. “What the fuck did I do to _you?_ ”

She stared at him. “Outside,” she said, “ _now_.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned around, her long curls whipping Geralt in the face (good, she thought) as she walked out of the tavern.

Geralt joined her a few seconds later, a blank expression on his face. She knew that look - it was the one he took on when he was feeling so much he’d rather just feel nothing at all. She leaned against the side of the tavern, arms folded over her chest.

“So?” he prompted roughly.

Yennefer ran her tongue over her teeth. “You’re not _serious_ right now, are you?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Jaskier is recovering from a _near death experience_ , Geralt, and your response is to break things off with him?”

He stiffened, looking away. “That’s none of your - ”

“I swear to the Gods, Geralt,” she interrupted, “if you’re about to say ”it’s none of my business“, I _will_ cut your fucking junk off.”

Geralt looked at her, the barest hint of fear in his eyes. “You don’t get it,” he said gruffly. “Have you ever loved a human, Yen?” She didn’t reply, because they both knew the answer. “It’s the worst fucking thing in the world. A _simple fucking flu could kill him_.”

“I’m not dumb, Geralt,” she said. “I know humans are weak and their lives are short, but so _what_? Isn’t that what’s so _incredible_ about them?”

Geralt stared at her, searching her face. “Wh - what?”

Yennefer sighed, squaring her shoulders. “Jaskier will have a short life, he _knows_ that and he’s _choosing_ to spend his days with you because he _wants_ to. He gets up every morning and isn’t afraid to live despite knowing one small thing, one _misstep_ , could be his end.”

He looked away. “Bravery,” he muttered under his breath.

“Bravery,” she parroted. “He might be weak physically, but sometimes I think he’s the strongest one out of our ragtag team.”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yen, I - ” he opened his eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do, but… I can’t, okay?” He took a step back. “It’s too late, anyway - I doubt he would ever take me back after this, and rightfully so.”

Yennefer frowned. “Geralt, don’t do this,” she said. “You _will_ regret it.”

He hesitated for just a second before turning around and walking away. Yennefer watched his retreating back, felt the first drop of rain on her skin. Pursing her lips, she turned and stormed off.

Yennefer walked in the room just as Jaskier was trying to get up, struggling on shaky legs. She rushed over and wrapped an arm around him. “What are you doing?” she asked. “You shouldn’t be getting up yet.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, duty calls,” he said with a pointed look and she blinked, once, before understanding dawned on her.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay, well, come on.”

After helping him with _that,_ she helped him back to his room - except, well, she took a detour. Jaskier only noticed when she stopped in front of door that was pointedly not his room.

“Yennefer?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

She smiled sweetly, which should’ve been a warning sign, Jaskier realized later, as she opened the door and pushed him in. Jaskier winced in pain as he caught himself, a hand on the wall.

“Yen - ” he asked, but she slammed the door in his face and locked it with magic.

Jaskier blinked, once. “Yennefer?” he called through the door, pounding on it. “Hey, what’s - ” He heard rustling from deeper in the room and turned around, watching with wide eyes as Geralt stepped around the curve in the wall. His stomach dropped. “ _Yennefer!_ ” he repeated, louder.

Geralt walked closer, an odd look on his face. “What’s going on?”

Jaskier pounded on the door with the back of his fist. “Ask _her_ ,” he said.

“Boys, boys,” her voice carried through the door, clear as day, “I am, frankly, exhausted by your stupidity. So, I have locked the door - with magic, Geralt, so don’t bother - and will only _unlock_ it when you have a _real_ conversation.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, tight. “Yennefer,” he said. “Please.”

“Sorry, Jaskier,” she said, and the worst part was she sounded sincere. “I’ll be back in, hmm, thirty or so minutes. Get to talking if you wish to be freed.” Jaskier listened as she walked away, her heels clacking on the floor until he could no longer hear them.

Jaskier didn’t open his eyes. He heard Geralt sigh and walk deeper into the room again. This was a cruel joke. He expected better of Yennefer after he’d essentially poured his heart out to her.

Pushing off the door, finally, he opened his eyes and walked further into the room, spotting Geralt lounging on the bed, cleaning his sword as if it wasn’t spotless already. He assumed he was doing it for a distraction.

Jaskier took a step and winced with a groan of pain.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, standing up and rushing to his side. He placed a hand on Jaskier’s elbow and helped him to the bed. Jaskier sat gingerly and watched, silent, as Geralt walked back to the other side and picked back up the rag and his sword.

He cleaned it, once, twice, three times.

“I know you’re just doing that so you won’t have to look at me,” he said finally.

Geralt’s hand paused. “Jaskier,” he said, rough. “We don’t have to do this.”

“ _Don’t_ we?” he replied quickly. “You know how stubborn Yennefer can be; she could keep us holed up in here for weeks and not even bat an eyelash.” He had a thought, then. “Where is Cirilla?”

Geralt looked almost guilty as he answered, “I - I don’t know.”

Sighing, Jaskier looked away and stared at a spot on the blanket. He wondered, briefly, if it was blood. It was the right color. He wondered if perhaps a different person, much like him, had gotten injured at some point and dragged to this very inn. He wondered, more importantly, if they had survived.

“Geralt - ”

“Jaskier - ”

They both stopped. Jaskier pressed his lips together, tight. “Go ahead.”

“You act as if I have ill will toward you,” he said. Jaskier snorted, but there was no humor in his eyes. Geralt frowned. “I don’t. Jaskier, I - ”

He stood up, then, nearly stumbling on his shaky, weak legs. “Stop,” he interrupted, feeling the sting of his tears. “I - I don’t want to hear it. Just _stop_. Gods, Geralt, do you not _get_ it?”

Geralt stared at him, unblinking.

Jaskier sniffed, looking away. “You think you’re _protecting_ me? _Helping_ me, by doing this?” He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “You are doing the exact opposite, I’ll have you know - ” he finally gathered up the nerves to look at Geralt again, bottom lip trembling “ - I would rather _die_ than no longer have you.”

“Jaskier,” he replied softly.

He shook his head. “You are being selfish,” he continued. “I - I thought Yennefer was full of shit, but maybe she’s not. Maybe you really are scared and you think you’re protecting _yourself_ by doing this. By - by pushing me _away_.”

Geralt stood up, his sword falling out of his lap. “I _am_ protecting you,” he said, eyes hard, hands curling into fists. “Nothing good will come of you sticking around me, don’t you get _that_? People _die_ around me, Jaskier! I cannot sit back and hope you will live to be the exception!”

“You are not _cursed_ , Geralt!” he shot back. “You’re just scared, and that’s _okay_.”

“No, it’s _not_!” he snapped, and the room fell silent. Jaskier stared at him, eyes wide. Geralt took a shaky breath and continued, “I am meant to be _strong_. I was… _created_ to be strong, unyielding in the face of danger but when I’m around you… Jaskier, I am the weakest I’ve ever been.”

Jaskier nodded, slow. “That doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Geralt,” he whispered. “There is strength in weakness.”

“There is not,” he replied gruffly. “Not for me. Can’t you understand, Jaskier? I _am_ protecting you. You think freely of what you want, but I am thinking of what you _need_.”

Jaskier’s skin prickled. “Do not,” he said, icily. “ _You_ do not get to decide what I want or need,” he said, holding his head high. “ _I_ decide what I need, and what I need is _you_ , Geralt. I am more confident of that than I am of even my singing, my playing.”

“But _why?_ ” he replied, but Jaskier could see his resolve weakening. “Jaskier - ”

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders. He thought of Yennefer’s words: _Save it,_ spoken with such confidence. Because she’d known, somehow, he would need them in this moment. “Because,” he interrupted, “I’m in love with you, Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt’s eyes widened, his hands slowly uncurling. He stood there, speechless.

“I - I did not say that expecting a reply,” Jaskier continued softly as he circled the bed, only limping mildly. Geralt grabbed his arm once he was close, steadying him. Jaskier stared up into Geralt’s eyes - the eyes of the man he loved. “But I need you to know, Geralt, that is how I feel. And… and that is why I will not let you go, not again. Not without one hell of a fight.”

Geralt squeezed his arm. “Jaskier,” he said finally, catching his breath.

“I might get hurt,” Jaskier said, “I might die, but I don’t care. I want to be by your side, always, as long as you’ll have me.” He reached up, slow, and cupped one side of Geralt’s face. “If you ever wish to - ” he swallowed, clearing his throat. “If you ever wish to leave me because you decide it is _truly_ no longer what you want, I… I will not push. But this - _this_ is not going to happen, Geralt. I am not letting you do this to yourself, to both of us, because you’re _frightened_.”

Geralt leaned into his touch. “Jaskier,” he repeated like it was the only thing he could say, might ever say again.

“I love you, Geralt,” he repeated. “I think I started falling in love with you the second we met, honestly.”

Geralt stared down at him for a long, silent moment. “Jaskier,” he said again, and Jaskier smiled, revealing the barest hint of his teeth.

“Did I break you?” he asked lightly, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “That was not my intention.”

Geralt turned his head, then, and nuzzled the palm of Jaskier’s hand. “You did not,” he replied, closing his eyes. He sighed, deep, and opened them, kissing the palm of Jaskier’s hand, his wrist, each tip of each finger. Jaskier held his breath, watching. “Jaskier, I - I haven’t said this very often,” he admitted. “I’ve been in love before, you know this much, but the words… I can’t remember actually uttering them aloud very often.”

Jaskier nodded, licking his lips. “You don’t have to,” he assured him. “I know, Geralt, even without words.”

“I’m - glad,” Geralt said slowly. “But.” He looked at Jaskier, holding his hand. He smiled, small and sincere. Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. “I love you, too, Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled, barely noticed the tears streaming down his face until Geralt wiped them away, a worried look in his eyes.

“Did I upset you?” he asked, and Jaskier laughed/sobbed, lunging forward and burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt slowly put a hand on his back, rubbing small circles through his shirt. “Jaskier?” he asked. “You’re worrying me.”

Jaskier sniffed loudly. “I’m - I’m not sad, dummy. I’m - I’m _really_ fucking happy.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Geralt breathed. His hand stuttered on Jaskier’s back for a second before resuming. “Good,” he said, a little gruff, clearing his throat. “That’s - good, then.”

Jaskier pulled back and stared at him through the tears. “Geralt,” he said. “We’ll be okay, right?”

Geralt leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I think so,” he confirmed. “I hope so,” he added after a beat, and Jaskier finally saw him for what he was: just a man, human or not.

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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